


my vigor is a new-minted penny

by casualbird



Series: ukatake wk 2021 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out, Poetry, Shotgunning, Trans Character, cute half-drunk shenanigans, the shotgunning is an accident but the sex is on purpose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:14:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28576569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualbird/pseuds/casualbird
Summary: “A gentleman,” he deems him, “Ukai-kun. Letting me pay for dinner, walking me home, coaching my volleyball team…”And evidently with his vino comes his veritas—“A mild-mannered schoolteacher could be convinced to fall in love!”Keishin laughs, a tipsy, too-loud thing, becausemild-mannered?Ittetsu, the bullet train, the ride of his life?three times ukai and takeda steal kisses, and one time they don't have to.
Relationships: Takeda Ittetsu/Ukai Keishin
Series: ukatake wk 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092188
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63
Collections: UkaTake Week 2021





	my vigor is a new-minted penny

**Author's Note:**

  * For [danny dongerman destroyer devito digbicks](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=danny+dongerman+destroyer+devito+digbicks).



> this got way hornier than it had any right to be
> 
> anyway enjoy, and enjoy extra if you are danny, because this is still All For You! i love you i love you so much!

Keishin will have to be forgiven for sending the boys on so many laps around school grounds, for setting the girls to inventory the first aid kit—it’s just that he needs a _breath._

He’d no idea how he’d dealt with it before, when Ittetsu’s bright beauty was only aspirational, when all it was was the same schoolboy crush all the kids have on each other. Stammering, flustering, ultimately livable. Somehow.

Now, though, was a new beast entirely, something that crawled out of the sea to pillage everything Keishin’s ever built for himself.

Ittetsu isn’t even _doing_ anything. Just sitting on the bench outside the gym, watching the boys disappear behind the main building. He’s smiling, half-laughing at their noise, that they have the lung capacity to run that hard and still chirp each other so mercilessly.

Keishin half-panics anyway. It’s just—he was so new to being Cool Coach Ukai, and now it’s a definite possibility that he will never be that person again.

Not after last night.

Not after Ittetsu took him back to his place, sat him down with that birdy little smile, made him curry that, though Ittetsu admitted it was a box mix, tasted like nothing he’d ever had. Not after Ittetsu poured his drinks, and the glasses of water he insisted Keishin drink in between, and chided him so gently about avoiding a hangover.

Not after he laid his little hand on Keishin’s wrist, not after asking all those soft stuttered questions to which the answers were always _yes._ Not after he’d nuzzled up to him, soft cheek against unshaven jaw, and brushed their lips together, kissed the corners of his mouth--

—Not after that.

He’s snapped out of it, then, by the realization that Ittetsu’s laughter, his sweet-tea smile’s turned to him.

“Are you okay, Ukai-kun?” It’s a light-handed thing, but there’s a drop of real concern in it.

But. “Yeah,” he says, he is. He’s fine, better than fine, he’s just—

—“I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my cool in front of you ever again.”

Ittetsu giggles, bright and sparklingly coy. His eyes dart from side to side and when he’s satisfied there’s no one around, he lays a tiny kiss on the ends of ink-stained fingers, blows it gently to light on Keishin’s flaring cheek.

“I think I can live with that,” he murmurs, and yeah. Yeah.

Keishin thinks that he can, too.

* * *

* * *

They weave a line all kittywampus down the rained-out sidewalk, making for something approximating home, for the short slice of sleep they’ll be able to gulp down before it’s time to do it all again. Ittetsu hums, off-key and off-kilter, listing closer to Keishin’s side by the second, until they’re tipped together like a three-legged race. And then they get their bearings and figure that they wouldn’t take it any other way.

Trying to suss out the song makes Keishin’s head feel like a shaken jug of syrup. He doesn’t, then, just listens to the sweet shaky strain of it, to the vibration of a second heartbeat in his chest. To the thing in his head that hollers _yes, yes, yes._

Yes to Ittetsu’s blithe smile in the gym that night after they’d put the kids to bed; yes to the sunset streaming through the windows of the izakaya; yes to good food, to alright beer, to Ittetsu’s world-class conversation.

Yes to the instep of Ittetsu’s shoe, nudging soft against his own under the table. Yes to the way he’d smiled, gleamingly pleased with Keishin’s blush.

He fumbled with his arm, finding better purchase on Ittetsu’s shoulder, fingers curling in the sleeve of that track jacket that occupies him so. _Too thin for the weather,_ he thinks, and it’s more than enough excuse to clutch Ittetsu closer.

Also, because just _wanting to_ is enough excuse at this point. Ittetsu sighs with pleasure, very nearly smug.

“A gentleman,” he deems him, “Ukai-kun. Letting me pay for dinner, walking me home, coaching my volleyball team…”

And evidently with his vino comes his veritas—“A mild-mannered schoolteacher could be convinced to fall in love!”

Keishin laughs, a tipsy, too-loud thing, because _mild-mannered?_ Ittetsu, the bullet train, the ride of his life?

There’s nothing he can say to that, so he doesn’t try. Just leans his cheek against the crown of Ittetsu’s head, lets his lips rest in soft hair.

It’s a kiss, he’s pretty sure. What he does know is that the street is empty, that there’s nothing around but the streaks of lamplight on wet pavement, that they can tear off the tiniest corner of time and space just for themselves. That Ittetsu has gone loose-limbed against him, that their gait fumbles as they walk on nuzzling into each other, that he laughs and laughs and laughs.

What he does know is that he won’t need much convincing to fall in love himself.

* * *

* * *

Keishin was meant to have left _two hours ago._ To have had one drink, a handful of cookies, maybe forty-five minutes of light conversation before bed, before the shift that was coming at the asscrack of dawn.

He’d known from the start, of course, that that wasn’t going to happen. And now here he is, rounding twelve-thirty and barreling for one, still huddled around the kotatsu, cackling away his _brains_ at stories from Ittetsu’s college days.

It hadn’t made sense, earlier, why his boyfriend had such a penchant, such a heroic tolerance for alcohol.

It does now.

He huffs away the dregs of laughter, wrangling the breath back to his lungs. Takes a long drag off his cigarette, snickering around it, and then.

Stops.

“You don’t… ever miss it, do you?”

The night walks far off-campus, the long late drunken diatribes on theory, mornings nobly pounding study through a bleared, hungover skull. The verve of a life like that, close-tangled with the pulses of those like you.

Coming up where he did—Keishin could scarcely dare imagine it.

“I mean… you don’t get bored?”

Another drag, to chase away the thought, but he’s barely got the cigarette out of his mouth by the time Ittetsu’s practically lunged for him, all at a rush.

“No,” he says, steel glinting through his silk. “Not with Miyagi, not with Karasuno. Not with you.”

He’s slung one knee over the low table, now, and the cheap particleboard of it creaks and they don’t _care._ Fingers reach for the half-zipped collar of Keishin’s track jacket, curling close to his neck, and there’s nothing he can do but let them.

Nothing else he wants to do, nowhere else he wants to be but here, staring down the barrel of this righteous, earnest face.

“My vigor is a new-minted penny,” Ittetsu says, voice lilting soft and thick. “Which I cast at your feet.”

“Gather it up from the dust,” and he is _beseeching_ now, breath coming tidal, fingers curling ever tighter, “that its sparkle may amuse you.”

Keishin hasn’t even begun to parse it, but still he already _knows,_ understands it marrow-deep by the time Ittetsu is kissing him, heavy and heady and deep. He slackens into it, shifts quivering hands slow onto his ribs, the soft swell of his hip.

Ittetsu is warm, so warm, so strident against him, and even though it’s wild, even though it beggars belief, Keishin knows it’s true.

It’s not as if Ittetsu’s ever lied to him, or ever would. It settles in him like a stone to the bottom of a lake, as if it’s supposed to be there, as if it’ll never move again, and it’s barely rasped to a stop before Ittetsu’s drawing back again, rosy-faced and sighing.

Smoke spills between his slick lips, and Keishin shudders with the way he looks on him, with the way he’s welcome there.

The way he wants to stay, to cling to him even now, even as Ittetsu’s hand finds the back of his own neck, sheepish. Even as he’s spluttering that he really ought to go, Keishin wants him. Under the kotatsu, on the open floor, it doesn’t matter.

But.

It’ll have to wait.

* * *

* * *

They wake panicked, shuffling in the sheets, because the alarm’s not gone off and the sun glares at too high an angle through Ittetsu’s window, because the thrum of morning traffic already runs outside.

Ittetsu is half out of bed before he realizes it’s Sunday.

“Y’re kidding,” mumbles Keishin, without much hope.

“I’m not.” He flashes his phone. Sunday, nine-sixteen AM.

Wild, Keishin thinks, that he’s let life lead him to a place where nine o’clock is _sleeping in._

Still. He beds back down, tugging at the band of Ittetsu’s pants, because Keishin’s got sense enough not to look a gift horse in its mouth.

“Back to bed,” he insists, marble-mouthed and sleepy, and Ittetsu comes laughing, without protest. Nestles back down in the scattered sheets, slings his thigh once more across Keishin’s. Clings to his chest, cradling.

The adrenalin fizzles out, and for once in their lives they can rest.

When Keishin wakes again, it’s with Ittetsu’s fingers in his bleach-dry hair, a little hum in his ear. It’s the same song most of the time, he can tell, though he’s not sure what it is.

It sounds sappy, though, and old, like a sun-bleached wedding portrait. Someday he’ll ask.

For now, he just lies in it, feeling the brush of Ittetsu’s belly against his own, the little gust of breath over his brow. Just leans in, a little nuzzling motion, until his lips are formed to the crest of his collarbone, to the skin he’d so diligently marked the night before.

And then down, across his breast, along the lines of his scars underneath. Over the soft desk-job swell of him, and the silver-pink stretch marks adorning his hips, and then down…

He stays there, for a while.

“Good morning,” says Ittetsu when it’s over, voice muffled in his hair.

And you know, he’s right. It is.

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello! i do hope you enjoyed that as much as i enjoyed writing it! which was a lot! so maybe i shouldn't ask for that much. i'll be satisfied if you liked it even a little. do let me know what you thought of it, this piece kind of... got away from me? i didn't mean to let it be That Horny, but these two have minds of their own i swear.
> 
> the poem takeda quotes is [_a lady_ by amy lowell,](https://poets.org/poem/lady) because takeda is NOTHING if not well-versed in lesbian poetry. go give it a read, it's a lovely poem.
> 
> do say hello! leave a comment if you enjoyed, and come hang out with me on [twitter (18+)](https://twitter.com/bird_scribbles) for updates and, i think, a generally good time.
> 
> thanks for reading! much love!
> 
> -mye


End file.
